


The Stuff of Dreams

by DayenuRose



Category: X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Breakfast, Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Heart-to-Heart, Motorcycles, Rain, Sleep, THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED, Touch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:21:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26766460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DayenuRose/pseuds/DayenuRose
Summary: Caught in a rainstorm after a mission gone bad, Rogue and Gambit are desperate to find a safe place to hole up for the night and to get a few hours sleep before resuming their trip back to the Mansion.
Relationships: Remy LeBeau/Rogue
Comments: 5
Kudos: 38





	The Stuff of Dreams

Rain poured from the sky in sheets. Puddles had long since formed into rivers rapidly sluicing along the low spots in the roads and through over-flooded gutters. A brilliant white fork of lightning split the sky, casting a stark afterimage of the city across Rogue’s field of vision and briefly ruining her night vision. The ground-rumbling boom of thunder followed near instantaneously on the tail of the lightning.

For the last half-hour, it had been nearly impossible to see the lines marking the lanes in the reflection of her headlight. More than once, Rogue’s motorcycle had skidded as she made her way down the rain slicked roads with more than the usual caution. Gambit tightened his hold around her waist and for once he wasn’t filling the silence with his usual flirtatious banter. In fact, he hadn’t spoken since the storm had begun, until he pointed out the neon glow of advertisements flickering in the otherwise darkened front window of a liquor store. 

“Pull in dere,” Gambit shouted to be heard over the rain and the engine. “I need t’ make a call.” 

More than ready for a break from the road, Rogue didn’t protest his odd request and pulled into the parking lot. Between needing to double on the bike and the unexpected storm, their trip back to the mansion was taking longer than either had expected. When they had started their return journey, they had hoped to make it back before dark. Though, even if the skies had been clear, dusk had been hours ago. With each passing mile, an timely arrival home appeared less and less likely to happen. Under ideal conditions—and present conditions were far from ideal—they still had a couple hours worth of hard driving from this location before they arrived home. She couldn’t even hazard a guess about how long the remainder of the trip would take them. 

While Rogue sagged wearily against the building’s brick wall, Gambit made his call from the payphone tacked to the side of the building. The sun faded valance kept the majority of the unceasing rain at bay and offered the waters logged travelers a momentary respite from the deluge. Her head thrummed with the beat of the rain and her body ached from spending too long in the same position. Flexing her stiff hands, Rogue groaned. Her knuckles cracked and popped causing Gambit to wince at the noise. She tugged at the fingers of her sodden gloves. They made a slight suctioning sound as she peeled them away from her skin. She was beyond wet. Even drenched was a too mild word for what she was feeling. Shivering as another rivulet of cold rainwater dripped from her hair and along the curve of her cheek before becoming lost in the darkened leather of her jacket, she sneezed. If she, with her invulnerability, was feeling the effects of the wet and cold this badly, she could only imagine how much worse it was for Gambit. 

As though he could sense her thoughts, Gambit glanced at her, his red eyes were bright in the darkness. He didn’t pause in his conversation, but his look inquired if she was all right. Rogue nodded and forced a determined smile. As much as she didn’t want to go back into the rain, she did want to find a warm and dry place to catch a few hours of sleep before they continued their trip home. Taking her response as an affirmative, Gambit turned back towards the wall and huddled under the weight of his sodden leather duster. _That thing must weigh a ton,_ she mused. He rooted around in his pockets for a cigarette. The ever pervasive damp had made its way into the open pack and the remaining cigarettes were left in a sorry state. With a groan and a shiver, he returned the soggy pack to his pocket. 

Taking a step closer to Gambit, Rogue wished for the the umpteenth time that for once in her life she could be normal. As the pervasive damp and chill worked through her uniform and past her skin, she chaffed at her arms in a futile attempt to warm herself. Closing her eyes, she allowed her thoughts a moment to wander. _What would it be like to be held in Remy’s embrace?_

Though he was also shivering at the moment, she always imagined Gambit was the kind of person whose body temperature normally ran warm. What would it be like for him to hold her in his strong arms? To feel the heat from his body radiating into her. Her heart raced as she imagined what might happen if such an embrace was possible. He’d kiss her, that much was certain. And, in a world where she didn’t need to worry about her deadly touch, she would allow him. She’d initiate the kiss. It would take him by surprise at first, but Remy would quickly return the kiss with equal, if not greater, fervor. Who knew where things might go from there...

“Oui, merci,” Gambit said into the phone before hanging up and breaking Rogue out of her reverie. 

What in the world had she been contemplating? The stuff of dreams, to be certain. Impossible dreams. Dreams she would be better off pretending didn’t exist. She lowered her head in the hope that her hair might hide the sudden crimson flush staining her cheeks. Instead damp, bedraggled tendrils of white hair stuck to her face and caught at her shoulders. 

Concern furrowed Remy’s brow and he reached for her as though to check her forehead for fever. Before she could push him away, he stopped. His hand hovered inches away from her forehead. Dropping his arm, he shoved his hands in his pockets with more force than necessary. He clenched his jaw and held himself rigid. Almost as if he was struggling as much as she was not to give in to reckless desire and touch. After a moment, he cleared his throat and when he spoke, his words held a light rasp. “Dere’s a Guild safe house ‘bout ten minutes from here. We can spend de night dere, if you like.” 

Rogue nodded, not certain she could trust her voice. 

“Looks like de rain is beginnin’ t’ lighten up.” Individual drops could be seen in the puddles. He limped to the edge of the semi-dry space and peered out into the night. His coattails shifted as he moved, revealing his torn and bartered uniform. Through the tears, the majority of the skin she could see had long since purpled in ugly, mottled splotches of contusions. What wasn’t already black and blue was the angry red of freshly clotted abrasions. When all was said and done, he’d gotten off rather lightly after having a building fall on him at the start of their journey. Well, only half fall on him. He had managed to find shelter before the collapse and walked away bruised and scraped but alive. His bike hadn’t been so lucky. Gambit had argued since he’d lost his bike to the collapse, he hadn’t actually gotten off all that lightly. Still, he hadn’t complained when he ended up riding tandem with Rogue on the back of her bike.

“Okay sugah, guess we ought to take advantage of the break.” Rogue pushed herself away from the wall. Her joints cracked as she rolled her neck and shoulders. Only ten more minutes, she could do this. She fished the keys from her pocket and stared blankly at them. After a moment’s hesitation she tossed the keys to Gambit.

He raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Quoi?”

“Since ya know where we goin’ swamp rat, why don’ ya drive. It’ll be quicker.” Rogue wrung the excess water from her gloves and tugged them back on. Now her hands were cold, stiff, and clammy. 

“D’accord,” Gambit moved more stiffly than normal, but still with more grace than the average person. If she wasn’t so miserable, Rogue could watch him all day. Instead she followed him and straddled the bike behind him. For the moment she was content to just be close. 

*~*~*

The safe house was on the top floor of an apartment building which had seen better days. Rogue’s feet dragged as she climbed the stairs. Even Gambit scuffed his feet along the groaning steps. She had never heard him move so noisily. If there was a key for the apartment, he didn’t have it. Though neither the lock nor the complicated security system just inside the doorway proved a deterrent for the master thief. 

Once Gambit flicked on the light and they stepped into the room, Rogue breathed a sigh of relief to be inside and away from the wet and cold. Her relief faltered as she surveyed the room. She didn’t need to move beyond the threshold to see the entirety of the apartment. In the corner of the room, to left of the door, a makeshift kitchen consisted of little more than a mini fridge, a hot plate, and a shelf consisting of a handful of non-perishable items. A small table and two metal folding chairs occupied the second corner. Along the far wall, a door presumably led to a bathroom. Through the door, she could glimpse the sheen of a shower curtain. Despite how wet she was, Rogue couldn’t think of anything better than a hot shower. 

Peeling out of her jacket, Rogue let it fall to the ground with a sodden splosh. Her boots and socks quickly followed. Anything to keep from looking at the remaining side of the room. 

Despite the scant amount of furniture in the apartment, there was scarcely enough space for one person, let alone two people, to manoeuvre freely about the place. Gambit had instantly moved to the right side of the room and was sorting through the small dresser pressed against the wall. 

“Here chère.” Gambit handed her what appeared to be a pair of sweat pants and a long sleeved t-shirt. “Dese should fit. You can take y’r shower first. Dere should be towels in de bathroom. ” 

“Thanks swamp rat,” Rogue held the clothes away from her body in hopes of keeping them dry. Heading back to the bathroom, she refused to acknowledge the only other piece of furniture in the apartment.

*~*~*

When Rogue had finished her shower and reluctantly left the warm, steamy room, she found Gambit sitting at the table with his head cradled in his arms. A damp, half-finished game of solitaire was spread out across the table. It took no more than a tentative brush of his shoulder to startle Gambit awake. His eyes were bright and alert despite the weariness and pain tugging at his body. 

“You look beautiful, ma chère.” He grinned at the sight of Rogue in her borrowed outfit and took the time to slowly study every inch of her from head to toe. Shifting under his intense, sensuous gaze, Rogue crossed her arms over her middle and inadvertently accentuating her full breasts rather than minimizing them as had been her intent. 

She didn’t know what game he was playing, because she knew, for a fact, that in her present state, she made for a ridiculous sight. The sweatpants were too long and despite rolling the cuffs, she still stepped on the hems every time she took a step. Thankfully the outfit had included dry socks, though there hadn’t been any spare gloves. Still, the long sleeves of the t-shirt were long enough that they covered her hands. If she was careful, it shouldn’t be a problem. 

With a jerk of her head towards the bathroom, Rogue cleared her throat, breaking the moment. “Uh, guess it’s your turn, swamp rat.” 

“Merci.” Gambit pushed away from the table and stood with a groan. “Sorry about de primitive arrangements. Dis ain’ nothin’ more dan a bolthole—a place t’ rest and clean up before heading back out.” 

“At least it’s dry,” she said taking the chair opposite where he had been sitting. She gestured at the pair of mugs on the table. Steam rose from the surface of a dark green mug. “One of those for me?”

“Oui,” Gambit handed her the full mug of tea before draining the dregs of the tea from his nearly empty one. Gathering a bundle of dry clothing, he likewise held it away from his still wet body. “‘m gonna shower now. Make yourself at home.” 

“All right.” Rogue sipped at the tea, savouring the warmth as it heated her from the inside out. 

Once Gambit was safely ensconced in the bathroom with the door closed behind him, Rogue forced herself to consider their sleeping arrangements for the evening. Without Remy as witness, she made no attempt to hide the crimson flush blazing up her neck and colouring her ears and cheeks. She needed to get this out of her system before he returned. Swallowing hard, Rogue finally acknowledged the last piece of furniture in the room. On the opposite side of the room, a single twin sized mattress was pushed up against the wall. 

*~*~*

After lingering in the bathroom longer than strictly necessary, Remy stepped into the silent main room of the apartment. The slightly damp ends of his hair brushed along the shoulders of his shirt. While similarly attired to Rogue, the outfit did fit him better. He wished he could have done more for her, but these boltholes tended to contain the necessities for a thief after a job and little else. Though there was little variety in the provisions from location to location, a thief could be certain to find a quick meal, a warm bed, a change of clothes and a first aid kit. Apprentices were in charge of keeping the safe houses properly stocked and the punishment was steep if a thief in need ever reported that some necessity was lacking. Remy was glad to find this one well cared for. A positive report was also well rewarded. 

As he had expected Rogue had found her way to the mattress and wrapped herself up in the sheet. Though he was a bit surprised to find her nearly pressed against the wall instead of lying in the center of the narrow mattress. He shrugged and set about gathering their wet clothes—anything to keep his attention from wandering to the tempting, gorgeous woman in the bed. It was no secret he desired her, but he would rather deny himself than press an unwanted invasion of her carefully constructed boundaries. Loving Rogue, pursuing her, was like balancing on a fine line. It was a precarious dance he had learned well, and had no desire to fail now by rushing her. 

He arranged their uniforms over the shower bar and propped their sodden boots and socks near the vent blowing warm air into the main room. After her shower, Rogue had hung her undergarments over the towel rack. Though she would never know, he respected her privacy and was careful not to touch them as his underwear joined hers on the bar. Rogue’s gloves were already arranged along the edge of the dresser. They were ruined, but even ruined gloves were better than none at all, he supposed. Last, but not least he gathered their wet coats and draped them over the back of the two chairs. None of their wet possessions were likely to completely dry before they left in the morning, but hopefully this would help. 

Finding a spare blanket in the dresser, Remy mentally thanked the apprentice in charge of maintaining this safe house and returned to the table. Wrapping the blanket around him, Remy sat in folding chair with Rogues bomber jacket draped over the back. Even drenched, the jacket carried her lingering, sweet scent. A smile tugged at Remy’s lips as he realized Rogue had finished his game of solitaire and spread out the cards in a neat single layer across the table. Though the cards were wrinkled and water logged, they now had a chance to dry without sticking together. They were the last deck he had on him, and he appreciated being able to use them, if the situation arose. Clearing a spot, Remy crossed his arms on the table and attempted to once again pillow his head on his arms. 

Forcing his breathing to slow, Remy tried to sleep. A pervasive ache pulled at the muscles along his back. The hot shower and Tylenol had helped ease many of the bumps and bruises, but the pain ran too deep. He was already stiff and sore before arriving and sleeping bent over the table was doing nothing to help. 

“Remy.” Thick with exhaustion, Rogue’s voice broke into his attempts at sleep. “Whatchya doin’ over there, sugah?”

He shrugged. “Givin’ you space, chère.” 

Rogue had been the one driving for the majority of their trip and she had brought them safe through the worse of the storm. She had to be aching as bad as he was. Letting her have the bed seemed to be the kindest thing to do. 

“Don’ be ridiculous swamp rat.” Rogue kept her back to him as she spoke, her words reflecting off the wall. A long silence filled the air as Remy’s exhausted brain scrambled to figure out what she was talking about. 

Finally, taking a deep breath, her words came out in a single hurried sentence. “If ya lay on your side, we can share the bed.”

That was enough to shock Remy into complete wakefulness. “You sure ‘bout dat Roguey?”

“Yeah, Ah’m sure.” The words were muffled as she spoke into the sheet. The only part he could see if her face was a single bright red ear. “Jus’ bring your own blanket and no funny business,” she added, sounding more like herself. 

“D’accord,” he agreed. Gingerly he made his way to the bed and arranged himself carefully along the edge. This was much better than the chair. With both occupants pressed along the extreme edges of the bed, a narrow valley of bedding separated their bodies. “Bonne nuit, ma chère. Beaux rêves.”

Already asleep, Rogue didn’t answer. Remy found himself easing into a peaceful slumber as his breathing matched her even exchange. 

*~*~*

It was still dark when Rogue woke. The foreign room was silent except for the steady breathing of another person. Her sleep addled brain reeled for a moment trying to make sense of the situation. An arm—not her own—was wrapped around her waist, fingers gently brushed her stomach. Warmth from a nearby body radiated through her clothing and the sheet she had cocooned herself in. A single blanket covered both of them.

Her slowly waking consciousness recognized her bed companion. _Remy._

The moment before panic set in, Rogue nearly started as her brain comprehended the ramifications of the present situation before her body did. When none of the negative consequences played out as she expected, she couldn’t help but marvel at the actuality of what was happening. She was being embraced without hurting anyone. Remy was _holding_ her, _caressing_ her. Her mind was clear—sleep mussed to be certain—but only her own thoughts and memories filled her psyche. In a moment of clarity, somewhere in the back of her brain, Rogue understood she didn’t need to be afraid. 

She forced herself to calm. Even if this was only a dream, she didn’t want it to end. For the first time in her life, she was being held in an intimate embrace. It wasn’t the skin against skin embrace about which she had often imagined, but the intimacy of the casual embrace proved such closeness was possible. 

Carefully, she reached out with her sleeve covered hand and wrapped it around Remy’s. She wanted to keep him close. He stirred in his sleep, shifting a mite closer, but not waking. A contented smile curled on Rogue’s lips and she allowed herself to relax. Her body molded against his like they belong together. The state of wary tension which knitted her shoulders and kept the world at bay began to seep from her muscles. Savouring the moment, Rogue tried to memorize every nuance about the experience before it slipped away like all good things tended to do in her life. Before she knew what was happening, she once more fell asleep—for the first time safely embraced in the arms of the man she loved. 

*~*~*

Remy stirred as the first rays of dawn snuck through the edges of the blackout curtains. Certainly he was still asleep because he was having the most pleasant of dreams. This wasn’t his room, this most definitely wasn’t his bed, but the femme in his arms—well, he hoped that one day she would be his. Long red hair tickled his nose as he inhaled. The scent was off. Instead of the sweetness of a southern summer he associated with her, her hair smelled of the same generic shampoo he had used last night. Despite his certainty that this was a dream, his body eased into the embrace like they belonged together. 

Though still aching from yesterday’s misadventures, he couldn’t remember the last time he had slept so soundly or had been so relaxed upon waking. Surely, this was more proof that this was nothing more than a dream. It was the only thing that made sense. Otherwise, how could he explain holding Rogue in his arms?

Wait. He was holding _Rogue._

_Merde._ What had he done? 

Panic flooded through him, his heart raced and his breath caught in his chest. He had majorly screwed up this time. She had trusted him. Last night Rogue had offered to share the mattress with him and he had promised to keep his distance. And now he’d broken that promise. He tried to slow his breathing and exude a calm he did not feel. What would Rogue do if she woke up and found him invading her space? 

Remy groaned inwardly, Rogue would have his hide for this and it was an accident. Certainly he deserved any punishment she wished to mete out.

He didn’t mean for this to happen. At some point during the night he must have turned over in his sleep and had unknowingly wrapped his arm around her waist. He never did that. Typically he was such a light sleeper that every time he changed positions, he would wake up. It was a good skill for a thief to be able to sleep lightly and wake at any change in his surroundings. But _this_...being so relaxed, feeling so safe.... _this_ never happened. 

As much as he didn’t want the embrace to end, he knew it wasn’t fair to do this to Rogue. He would slip his hand away and turn over so they once more laid back to back—or better yet, get out of bed and prepare for the rest of their trip home.

Moving slowly as not to disturb Rogue’s sleep, Remy shifted his arm. Instead of slipping away from her, he found his arm trapped in an iron hold. At his attempted movement, Rogue shifted in her sleep so her back pressed closer against his chest and the grasp on his wrist tightened. Did that mean? Was Rogue....? 

No, Remy shook his head. This was impossible. He didn’t know what it could be, but Rogue prolonging an intimate hold. Now that, that was the stuff of dreams to be sure. 

Propping himself up on his other elbow, Remy lifted his head until he could peer over Rogue’s shoulder and figure out what had caught his wrist. His heart skipped a beat as he realized Rogue’s covered hand was actually holding him in place. Though her grip was strong even in sleep, there was something gentle about it. Her thumb moved in soothing circles along the inside of his wrist. Had she also responded to his presence in her sleep? Did this mean she wanted this as much as he did?

He settled back down beside her. The ease at which he found himself upon first waking began to return. If he really wanted to, it wouldn’t be too difficult to break her hold. But, he didn’t want to leave her. Besides, the escape would surely wake her and they both could use some more rest after yesterday’s misadventures. 

That’s right...Remy mused as he relaxed into the nearness of the woman he love...they needed this. 

*~*~*

This time Rogue didn’t wake with a start. She still laid on her side with Remy’s arm wrapped around her waist and her hand holding him in place. It it were possible, he was even closer than they had been the last time she was awake. The entire length of his body curled around hers. His even breathing ruffled her hair. Rogue couldn’t think of a better way to wake up than in the arms of her Remy. If only this didn’t need to be a one time occurrence....

“Remy?” Rogue’s voice cracked. 

“Bon matin, ma chère. How’d you sleep?” Remy’s voice was husky with the remnants to sleep. He pressed a kiss to the back of her head and adjusted his hold, pulling her tighter to his chest. 

She happily sighed and relaxed to the point she practically melted into him. His hold eased into an encompassing, familiar lover’s embrace in response. Her tight hold on his wrist slackened into a languid caress. Despite their closeness, there was no pull of powers, no invasion of memories. For the first time since her mutation first manifested, she wondered why had she always pushed this possibility away? 

“Désolé, ma chère,” Remy intoned into her hair. “I didn’ mean t’...” His hold on her loosened and he slipped his arm away from her. He scootched to the edge of the mattress and sat with his head buried in his hands. “...I promise...I’ll never...”

Rogue cried out at the loss of his touch, before marshalling her emotions back under control. She didn’t regret what had happened. Surely he wasn’t blaming himself? She knew it had started as an accident...a happy accident to be certain. And, nothing bad had happened. It was the opposite of bad. He had held her—and kissed her—and he was still conscious. She still held onto the sanctity of her own mind. It was amazing. It was the closest she had been to anyone in years.

She flopped onto her back. The protective layer of sheets entangled her limps and slowing her reactions when she could least afford it. Extracting her arm from the cocoon of linens, she placed her hand against his back. Remy started at her unexpected touch. 

Swallowing back the lump of emotion, Rogue fought the desire to return to the prickly, protective shield she habitually wrapped around herself to protect her heart from being hurt. If he didn’t want this. If he regretted what had happened.... She could let him go. Pretend last night never happened and continue to hold him at arms length. 

Or, the scary thought entered her head, she could change the status quo. “Ya got nothing to apologize for sugah. Ah knew ya were there...and Ah didn’ want to let ya go. It was nice.”

“Oui.” The tension seeped from his shoulders. A grin flickered across his face as he turned to face her. Reaching across the space separating them, he looped a lock of white hair around his fingers and brought it to his lips. Never breaking eye contact, he pressed a kiss to the snowy curls. His eyes simmered with a sensuous fire, which made her shiver with desire. “It was nice, mon coeur. More dan nice, really.”

Before Rogue could agree, her stomach growled. Between the overwhelming deluge of epiphanies and the very real hunger, she couldn’t stop the giggles as they erupted from her. Remy joined her a moment later. He leaned back across the bed, his head resting on stomach while they both dissolved into laughter. They had missed dinner yesterday and hadn’t eaten anything since lunch as they had pushed hard to cover as many miles as possible. 

When the laughter ceased, Remy pushed himself up from the bed and offered Rogue his sleeve covered hand. “C’mon ma chère. Let’s find some breakfast before headin’ out.” 

Without hesitation, Rogue took his proffered hand and scrambled out of bed. “Sounds good, swamp rat.” 

*~*~*

Remy would swear that this was a dream. Except he kept pinching himself and he never woke up. It didn’t seem possible. Since waking up with Rogue in his arms, she hadn’t stopped touching him. Though her hands were tucked safely into the long sleeves of the t-shirt, every time they were near enough to touch, her hands found him. The idea that she could actually touch without hurting him was so novel that she couldn’t stop. When she hadn’t protested, Remy had returned each touch for touch, caress for caress. His hands brushed along her shoulders. His arm wrapped around her waist. Neither were particularly careful as they moved about the small space of the safe house and thus were constantly brushing against each other. 

Reluctantly, he had to admit that the willingness and frequency of her touch probably had quite a bit to do with the fact they were away from the judging stares and caustic commentary of their teammates. He didn’t expect this to continue after their return to the Mansion, so he would savour every moment of this experience. 

They had walked hand-in-hand for the two and a half blocks it took to reach the breakfast and lunch diner from the bolthole apartment. Even when they reached their destination, Rogue hadn’t let go. She had pulled him into the booth beside her and he had no intention to complain. Even as they ordered and started to eat, she remained pressed against his side—his arm wrapped around her shoulders, her hip pressed against his. Other than the clink of cutlery against the plate and the check-in by their waitress, Rogue and Remy ate in companionable silence—as though they were afraid to break the rapturous experience of their nearness. 

As the waitress had stopped by one last time, re-filling their coffee mugs and leaving the bill, telling them they could pay at the counter when they were ready, Rogue speared the last bite sized piece of her pancakes. “Ah don’ want this to end.” 

“It doesn’ have to,” Remy set his mug of coffee back on the table and rested his cheek against the top of her head. Snuggling close to Rogue in the booth was giving him more of a boost than the caffeine ever could. Yesterday’s aches and pains were nothing compared to this morning’s rapturous discoveries. 

She shook hers head. “Ya know as well as Ah do, the moment we return home they’re all gonna be watching us. Expecting me to push ya away...” 

“So?” 

“Sugah,” there was a note of long suffering in her her voice, “Ah ain’ gonna be able to relax enough to let ya near when they all treat me like a leper.” 

He didn’t have a response to that other than to give her shoulder a squeeze and press a kiss to her hair where it changed from white to cinnamon. 

Still pressed as close as possible, Rogue shifted and gazed up at him with wonder. “Ya really aren’ afraid of me, are ya? How come Cajun?”

“You’re not the only mutant who has trouble controlling their powers.” He held out the hand not wrapped and her shoulders. Without his gloves, the webbing of scars and old burns across his palm was clear for the world to see. “It shouldn’ be held against you while the rest o’ us get a pass as we learn.” 

He hadn’t gotten a pass—not by a long shot—but his previous lack of control wasn’t perpetually used against him on a daily basis like it was for her. “You don’ deserve to be stigmatized when so many of us aren’t. It only makes t’ings harder on you—like dey’re justifying you pushing everyone away rather than helpin’ you learn control.”

A lock of white hair fell across her face. He tucked the strand behind her ear, his fingers lingering. “And, more important, ma chère, I trust you. And, I hope, you trust me as well.” 

“Yes.” The word escaped before she could second guess herself. Then, with more assurance she confirmed her remark. “Ah trust ya Remy.”

Awestruck, Remy sat in silence as he reveled in the simple words. She trusted him. How long had it been since someone had trusted him like that.?

“Sugah,” Rogue broke the silence. She shifted uncomfortably in the booth. For the first time since they had sat down, there was a fraction of space between their hips. 

“Oui?” He surprised himself by keeping the sting of hurt out of his voice at the sudden space. In the back of his head, he knew it wasn’t personal he adjusted his hold, leaving her room if she needed to slip away—the nearness and honest confessions being too much—while he kept his embrace open, letting her know that he wanted to keep holding her as long as she liked. 

She looked up at him from under a fringe of snowy white. “Well, Ah was wondering...that is...Ah was hopin’ ya could..help me...” she gestured vaguely with her hands, finally reaching out with sleeve covered fingers and brushed the palm of his hand. “...ya know.” 

Ah.

“I know, but you got to say it chère.” He gently wrapped his hand around hers. His thumb ran soothing circles across her palm. 

“Why?” There was a plaintive almost pleading tone in her voice. 

“Because, if you’re not comfortable saying it, you won’t be comfortable when it comes time to act.” He kept his voice low and gentle. 

Rogue swallowed hard. A moment of indecision flickered across her half hidden eyes. Then, it was gone. Rogue sat straight and returned to her place pressed against Remy’s side. Though the protective layer of sleeve didn’t allow them to interlace their fingers, she held his hand. She brushed the fringe out of her eyes and met his red eyes with a steely determination. He smiled. He loved her fierceness. Ingrained on the very core of his being, he knew without a doubt, his femme would never back down from a challenge. 

“Sugah, would ya—please—help me,” a pause as she inhaled a breath of courage, “learn to touch again.” 

“It would be an honour.” Remy’s eyes glinted. He wold prove that he was a man worthy of the trust she placed in him. 

“Thank ya Cajun.” Almost daring she raised her hand and cupped his cheek. Wonder filled her expression as the more than five o’clock shadow, less than full beard, pierced through the thin material of her sleeve. She ran her thumb over the bristles. Normally he wasn’t overly fond of the feeling—a hand running against the grain of hair growth, but when she touched him, when she willingly explored new ways to caress him, he never felt anything more amazing. His heart raced and he felt as if he could melt into her embrace right there in the middle of the diner. She definitely wasn’t ready for anything that demonstrative, especially in public. So, instead he returned the gesture, tucking his hand into his sleeve and cupping her cheek. 

“Chère,” his voice was was breathless. His eyes dilated as hers. 

Rogue tilted her head back—her chin defiantly raised. Her tongue flicked across her parted, luscious lips. Did she know what she was doing to him? 

He lowered his face nearly meeting hers. Her breath smelled of coffee and pancakes. She didn’t pull away from his embrace or shove him from the booth. Instead, if anything, she moved closer millimeter by millimeter. 

“May I?” He breathed the question against her lips. 

“Yes,” she whispered with a confidence he rarely heard when it came to touch. 

Remy brushed his flips against hers. Sweeter than the traces of syrup lingering on her lips was the sweetness of the moment when she deepened the kiss. All too quickly there was a build up of power, the tug of energy, and the sudden separation. 

He sagged slightly in her arms—though not with the drain of psyche and memory as he had expected. It was more of the spinning rush of getting up too quickly. The gasp for air after a long, passionate kiss. Though brief, that kiss most certainly had been passionate. 

Rogue’s eyes widened. Her fingers brushed her lips as though surprised by her daring. “Remy? Did Ah hurt ya?” 

“Non, mamour.” He grinned in giddy delight. “You didn’ hurt me. Just a little light headed.” 

“Ah...Ah didn’t absorb ya. Ah felt mah powers start to pull...and then we stopped. No powers...no memories...Remy do ya know how long it’s been?” She was practically bouncing in the booth. Tears of joy glimmered in her eyes. “Do you know what this means?” 

He nodded. “Dat control is possible.” 

“Thank ya, sugah. Thank ya for trusting me. For letting me touch ya.” She rested her head against his shoulder, listening to the steady beat of his heart. Idly, she played with the ends of his hair. 

Remy swallowed hard, pushing back his anger at the others. He wouldn’t taint this moment for her. She was thanking him for something that ought to be the most natural thing in the world. He knew what it meant to be touch deprived and, he swore by all that’s holy, he would never let her experience such deprivation again. 

Holding her close, he closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to the crown of her head. “T’ank you, mon coeur. T’ank you for sharin’ dis moment wit’ me.” 

“Remy?” Every once in a while as she played with his hair, her fingertips would flittingly brush against the bare skin at the nape of his neck. The brief contact wasn’t enough to do anything more than give them both the pleasure of touch. 

“Oui?” He hummed, content to stay like this as long as she wanted. 

“What does ‘mon coeur’ mean? Ya’ve called me that a couple of times now.” There was a playful curiosity to her tone. 

A warm flush coloured his cheeks. She’d caught him. After everything they had shared this morning, he couldn’t keep this confession from her, even if it meant bearing more of himself than he intended to reveal. He brushed his hand under her chin so she would look up and meet his eyes. 

“It means, ‘my heart.’” He didn’t know for certain when she began to mean the world to him, but he was willing to spend the rest of his life proving the truth to her. “You are my heart, chére. Je t’aime.” 

“Ah love ya, too, Remy.” She caught his sleeve covered hand and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. “You and me. Lovin’ ya. This. _This_ is better than Ah ever dreamed it could be.” 

“Je suis d’accord.” Remy took her hand in his and tugged her out of the booth. 

After her earlier declaration of not wanting to leave quite yet, she glared at him in confusion. With a bit of an unintentional pout which made him want to try kissing her full lips again, she challenged his decision without ever letting go of his hand. “Where are we goin’ swamp rat?” 

“We don’ have t’ leave the safe house quite yet.” He leaned in close so he could whisper in low, sexy murmur. His breath was warm on her ear and with her newly awaken instincts she pressed closer to him. “I t’ought we might want t’ practice somewhere a bit more private before we have t’ head home an’ have t’ face de music again.” 

She flushed scarlet, but didn’t let that stop her from turning her face and surprising him with a brush of her lips against his. “Ah’d like that sugah.” 

All his sensuous insouciance had been replaced by a giddy grin, as he paid the bill and led them outside. Rogue wasn’t ready for anything too intimate yet, and that was all right with him. What they had already shared this morning was sweeter than anything he had ever dreamed. 

“Whatcya grinn’ about sugah?” Rogue bumped again him her hip.

“You, mon coeur. Always you.” Remy pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. She practically glowed with contentment at all the attention he was giving her. He hoped he could always make her this happy. And today would be just the start. Leading her back towards the apartment, they walked hand in hand and talked in the manner of old friends and new lovers.

**Author's Note:**

> Most of my French comes via internet translation. I'm including translations for a few phrases from the story. 
> 
> Bonne nuit, ma chère. Beaux rêves. - Good night, my dear. Sweet dreams.
> 
> Bon matin, ma chère - Good morning, my dear. 
> 
> mamour - love
> 
> Je suis d’accord - I agree


End file.
